


REACH

by AlaskaMarina



Series: Darkly Dreaming Dean [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaskaMarina/pseuds/AlaskaMarina
Summary: “The Angel reaches through the heat and the smoke and the aloneness and pulls Dean and Sammy from the nightmare like a superhero, lifting them into the air with one hand.”  Prequel to "Where My Demons Hide" and "It's Dark Inside"





	

Waking up is Dean's favorite part of the day. Going to bed is Dean's second favorite because it means he'll get to wake up again before he even knows it. Bedtime is also the time his Mom sings to him and kisses him goodnight, and really that's enough to push bedtime up to number one. 

Right now it's bedtime for Sammy. Ever since Sammy came along, Dean gets two songs before bedtime because he gets to listen to his Mom sing to Sammy too. It's just after song-time and Mom is lifting Dean up to say goodnight to Sammy while they wait for Daddy to come home. Dean gives Sammy a little wave, marveling once again at how tiny his baby brother is.

"Was I really that little, Mommy?" He asks

"Oh yes," she says, "And even littler."

"Wow."

"Hey, Dean." 

It's Daddy's voice.

Dean squirms down and runs over to the doorway, jumping into his arms.

"Daddy!" He exclaims, ecstatic. Only sometimes does Daddy come home before Dean's in bed.

"Hey buddy," his Dad smiles, "You think Sammy's ready to throw the football around yet?"

"No, Daddy," Dean giggles. 

"No?"

His Daddy could be so silly. Dean hugs him even tighter. 

"Goodnight, Sam," his Dad calls quietly, before carrying Dean to his own bed. 

His dad puts him down, tucks him in, and kisses his forehead.

"Goodnight, Dean," he whispers.

"Goodnight, Daddy."

His Daddy leaves and Mommy comes in for song-time. 

Tonight she sings him "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles. It's one of Dean's favorites. He loves to listen to her voice all by itself but he sings along at the end which makes her smile. Dean thinks Mommy is the most beautiful when she smiles. 

"I love you, Dean," she says, kissing his face all over, "I love you. I love you. I love you." 

Dean giggles again, shaking his head under her tickly kisses. "I love you, Mommy," he laughs.

"Goodnight, Angel."

"Goodnight, Mommy."

She leaves. For the rest of his life, Dean will always remember the look on her face before she switches out his light. The softest, sweetest, smile in the whole world.

* * *

 The smell wakes Dean.  

Urging him gently from dreams of football and sunshine. He doesn't know what to make of it. 

There's a weird, orangey-yellow light coming from the hallway and it feels much, much too hot. He's sweating through his pajamas. And it smells like the time Mom burned the cookies. It'd smelled awful, but he thought the cookies still tasted good. Once he picked the black parts off. But it's too late for cookies now. And it's so  _hot_. 

Dean's still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he hears his Daddy yelling. He sounds upset. He sounds  _scared_. Like when Dean accidentally locked himself in the basement. 

Dean throws off the covers and runs into the hall, worried, looking for Mommy and Daddy. 

The hall is full of the strange yellow light, making everything look jumpy and out-of-focus. His little feet carry him to Sammy's room, where the light and the heat and the  _smell_ seem to come from. Suddenly, Dad is there, Sammy in his arms, looking so scared it makes Dean scared. 

"Daddy!" Dean cries.

Dad leans down and thrusts Sammy into Dean's arms.

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can," Dad shouts. Only then does Dean realize how  _loud_ it is. It's like the door to Sam's room is roaring like a lion. "Don't look back!" Dad keeps shouting, "Now, Dean! Go!"

So Dean goes. 

He holds Sammy close to his chest, just like Mommy showed him, and runs as fast as he can without tripping. He goes down the stairs, but then stops. He shouldn't stop but he has to because the ceiling is roaring like the door and when he looks up it's black like the cookies and the same orange-yellow light is leaking through it. There's yellow goo on the ceiling that doesn't seem to fit there. 

Dean's mouth falls open and he coughs because that lets the black smoke in. The black smoke that chased him down the stairs like a monster. Dean turns, trying to find the door, but the ceiling cracks and roars, and black stuff falls from it blocking his way to the front door. He moves for the kitchen. But the smoke is everywhere now, choking him, blinding him. And oh, god the  _smell_. 

Dean holds Sammy even closer, trying to keep the smoke away from his little face. He's stuck. He has to get out but he doesn't know which way is out. It's so loud and bright and dark at the same time and it  _stinks_. It  _stinks_ so bad he can't even think. 

He stumbles through the kitchen, where there's more yellow goo that smells like candles, and into the laundry room where the back door is, but it's dark in there and he can't reach around for the door without dropping Sammy. Suddenly the ceiling roars again and something big and black and heavy falls, knocking Dean off his feet. 

He squeezes Sammy closer, closer.  _Sammy, Sammy, Sammy_ ,  _I'm so sorry Sammy,_ he thinks,  _I don't know how to get out._

He's trapped, alone in the dark and the smell and the roaring.

He's going to die. 

And Sammy is too. 

So Dean does what Mommy told him to do whenever he was scared and didn't know what to do.

He prays.

* * *

 Dean sits in the dark for what feels like hours, hope drifting away like the sticky black smoke that leaks through the doorway. Dean could be dreaming, but he thinks he can hear someone laughing. A man. But it's not happy laughing. It's..something else. Something colder Dean doesn't understand. Doesn't want to. Cause if he understands it, then maybe he'll know what the man wants. And what he wants must be something so terrible for him to be laughing right now while the world is crashing down around them.

Dean squeezes his shut, wishes he could cover his ears to block out the laughing and the roar of the flares and the sick, cracking sound of his beloved home being reduced to ash by the wicked, wicked flames.

But then the impossible happens: Dean's prayers are answered. 

The door opens.

It's nighttime outside, but still so much brighter than the blackness inside. And there are red and blue lights in the street behind the outline of the figure standing there. The shape stumbles his way toward them through the blackness and the heat and the strange yellow goo. He reaches out to Dean and says something that Dean can't hear over the roaring. 

He stares at the figure's hand, held out in front of him. Wondering why it was there. Wondering who the man was. So happy to see someone else. To not be alone. 

God's Angel brings with him fresh air and light and a cool breeze. All the most beautiful things in the world Dean had almost forgotten existed. 

He reaches through the heat and the smoke and the aloneness and pulls Dean and Sammy from the nightmare like a superhero, lifting them into the air with one hand. His touch burns like holy fire and Dean knows, he  _knows_ , this man is an Angel. 

Dean's so happy, he's crying.  _I got an Angel_ , he thinks,  _I called an Angel and he came!_

He squeezes Sammy to his chest and stares up at the Angel's face, knowing he'll never forget it if he lives a million bazillion years. 

"How- How did you?" Dean breaks off in a coughing fit, some of the evil smoke still stuck inside him. 

The Angel puts a finger to his lips and Dean realizes he has to keep the Angel's powers a secret. He can do that. He'll do whatever the Angel says. 

The Angel kneels down and Dean can see how beautiful and blue his eyes are. Like the sky on the brightest, warmest, happiest days. 

"You're safe now," his Angel says. And Dean knows it's true.

"Thank you," he whispers. It's not enough. But it's all the words Dean has. 

That's okay though. His Angel understands. 

His Angel is perfect. 

* * *

 

 


End file.
